


A Quiet Spree

by Politzania



Series: Just One of those Things [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blow Jobs, D/s if you squint, Eventual Smut, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Innuendo, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-01 15:32:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5211167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/pseuds/Politzania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stark overextends himself in the workshop after a tough mission.   Barnes, venturing out from under Cap's wing, visits the workshop with the intent of having Stark look at his arm.   Heavy flirting and mutual pining ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What was supposed to just be a quick, somewhat fluffy, somewhat sexy flirtation between Stark and Barnes turned into what I hope is a rather sweet story, with a bit of smut thrown in for good measure in the last chapter.

“Son of a bitch!” Tony’s curse was nearly drowned out by the music currently pouring out of the speakers in his workshop. He knew better than to immerse himself in a project right after a mission, especially one in which he’d cracked several ribs and quite possibly partially dislocated his left shoulder. But he’d be damned if Barton left his vest behind again because he said it was still too heavy and inflexible. And then Dum-E’s axle assembly was making a horrible screeching noise every time the bot moved, so he had to check that out and with one thing and another, entirely too many hours had passed since food, sleep or (most importantly) his last self-prescribed dose of muscle relaxant and pain pills. 

Which explained why he was stuck here sitting on the floor and psyching himself up to actually attempt to stand. He knew it was going to hurt. A lot. So it just figured that the music levels dropped to what everyone else would call “normal” and he heard a voice call out “Stark, are ya in here?” Apparently he’d forgotten to lock down the workshop; that, or JARVIS was plotting against him, again. Ever since Pepper left, JARVIS had become nearly insufferable with his efforts to keep Tony from falling apart. He was a little surprised the AI hadn’t already nagged at him about getting some food, or sleep. Food.. food would be good. 

“Over here, in the southwest corner of the shop. Dum-E, wave at the nice visitor.” The robot raised his arm and flailed it about randomly as Tony stretched painfully up to peek over the lab bench to see who was invading his domain. It was Barnes, which meant Cap wasn’t far behind. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with being yelled at about sneaking out of the medbay when everyone’s backs were turned. Rogers was even worse than JARVIS about mother henning. 

But wait... Barnes was alone. Tony wasn’t sure he’d been out of the good Captain’s sight (other than when they got called out on missions) since the two of them had arrived at the Tower about a month ago. They’d kept mostly to themselves, so Tony hadn’t gotten to know his new guest very much at all. Although Tony hadn't been at his most sociable, lately, either. Rogers had gone on and on about good old Bucky while he was tracking his BFF down, but Tony was pretty sure that who he found wasn’t the pal Cap remembered from his youth. 

But Tony kinda had a thing for the guy, even as he realized that being physically attracted to a man who was probably the longest-serving POW ever and knew umpteen ways to kill someone was a bad idea. It had been a while since he’d indulged that side of his sexuality; there had been several discreet one night stands during his playboy phase, but he had been faithful to Pepper the whole time they were involved. Tony shook himself loose from dwelling on what he had lost and what he couldn’t have; and as Barnes approached, he asked “Hey, where’s Cap?” 

“Sound asleep - after eating most of three large pizzas. Needed to recuperate.” He paused for a moment. “Why are you sitting on the floor?” There was a tenseness in the way Barnes was standing, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to be there. Considering the man's previous experience with workshops and labs, Tony was a little surprised he’d come in at all, much less without his Captain at his side. 

“Working on my robot’s undercarriage,” he replied. “Barnes, this is Dum-E. Built him when I was in my teens. About as bright as a three-year old, but slightly more destructive. If he offers you a smoothie, decline. He can’t always tell the difference between motor oil and chocolate syrup. Dum-E, this is James “Bucky” Barnes, a friend of Cap’s. I know you want to play with his arm, but don’t.” Dum-E lowered his camera and beeped in disappointment. “At least not without asking first,” Tony finished. The camera came back up with a hopeful whirr and Barnes chuckled softly. 

“Hey, would you do me a favor and slide those over where I can reach them?” Tony pointed to the pill bottles sitting on the back of the counter. Maybe once he got some meds in his system, he’d be able to get the hell up off the floor and get some food and sleep. Ah yes, sleep... sleep would be good. 

Barnes picked up the bottles, read the instructions, carefully shook out the correct dosage and held the pills out to Tony. Fuck it, he hurt too much to get picky about being handed something; it was a stupid hangup, he knew, but couldn’t seem to shake it. Tony took the pills from Barnes and dry-swallowed them. 

“So, who sent you to check on me? It was Romanov, wasn’t it? I just wanted to sketch out some ideas for updating Barton's armor when I got sidetracked by Dum-E and kinda lost track of time.” 

Barnes shook his head. “Wasn’t sent by anyone. Thought I’d come talk to you about maybe looking at my arm sometime.” Tony had been dying to examine Barnes’ prosthetic for ages, but after a stern talking-to from Rogers, had managed to keep that desire (among others) to himself. 

“I’d be happy to, Barnes. Dum-E, come help me up.” The bot reached down to place its claw around his left bicep. “No, not that arm, the other one.” Tony tried to recall the last time he calibrated Dum-E’s grip feedback... this just might leave bruises. The bot clumsily helped Tony to his feet, but left him off-balance enough to stumble right into Barnes, who caught him easily. Had there been an all-too-brief embrace, or was Tony just imagining things? He steadied himself on the edge of the counter as a wave of vertigo washed over him. Surely he’d eaten something today, right? Or was it even still today? Not having windows in the workshop really messed with his circadian rhythm. 

“You okay, Stark?” He sounded genuinely concerned, which was not helping Tony’s mindset. No, he was not getting a crush on Cap’s pal. Just... no. Not happening. He tried not to wince in pain as Barnes put a hand on his shoulder, but no luck. “Hold on, is this why you snuck out of medbay?” he asked, removing his hand as if Tony were on fire. 

Tony sighed. “I’m fine, I just twisted it a little.” But he wasn’t buying it; he reached back out, gently probing, and discovered the misalignment. 

“Sit. I can fix this.” Tony did as he was told, straddling the bench. The momentary jolt of pain made him see stars for a moment, but it quickly receded to a dull ache, better than it had been before. Then he felt Barnes sit down behind him, hands skilfully rubbing his shoulder, and then the rest of his back. “Used to do this for Stevie when he’d get spasms from a coughing fit”, he explained. 

The analytical part of Tony’s brain was fascinated by the action of the prosthetic, the pressure and movements synchronized to that of Barnes’ other hand. How the hell did they set up the biofeedback mechanisms, anyways? The rest of him, however, was slowly melting into a puddle, only slightly abashed by the quiet moans that the physical contact was wringing out of him. Yes, his meds were definitely kicking in. Total loss of inhibitions (and then consciousness) in 3-2-1.... 

“So... if the whole sniper assassin thing doesn’t pan out for you, Barnes, I suggest you pursue a career as a masseur. You could name your own price - gold, diamonds, sexual favors. I know I’d pay with any of the above.” Wow - the things that you’ll say while on really good drugs, Tony thought. 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. But back in my neighborhood, suckjobs came cheap, at least during the Depression. Supply and demand and all that. Not that they weren’t worth it.” Tony’s jaw dropped. There was no fucking way that Bucky Barnes, sidekick to Captain goddamn America just said the word “suckjob”, much less was that familiar with them. 

“You did not just say.... no. Holy hell, Barnes, you’re not at all like Rogers, are you?” Tony’s words came out a bit slurred. He could tell he was going to crash any minute, but that was okay. Sleep would be really, really good right now. 

“The sooner everyone learns that, the better.” Tony vaguely heard Barnes reply as he rested his head on the table in front of him, for just a minute or two...

\----------------------------------

He sat there on the bench for a moment. Stark had slumped forward onto the table, and was gently snoring. This had not been a good idea, not at all. Steve had warned him that Stark wanted to get his hands all over the hunk of machinery he now had to call his arm, and that had given him pause. Going into the workshop, with its resemblance to the labs where HYDRA had put him through hell, seemed risky at best. But the damage done during those terrible fights - the Soldier versus Captain America - was getting worse, and he couldn’t fix it on his own. 

And it wasn’t just the arm he couldn’t fix. While he was thankful beyond words to have his best friend, his brother in all but blood, back in his life again, the pressure to be who he had once been was overwhelming at times. His memories were slowly coming back, but he was never going to really be Steve’s Bucky again. Too much had happened in the intervening years. 

There was so much Steve didn’t know. Hell, he’d kept secrets from the little punk even when they shared an apartment back in Brooklyn. Steve had seen Bucky going out with the girls in the neighborhood, but didn’t know who he was also meeting in dark corners and deserted alleys, sometimes for money (gotta make the rent), sometimes just to satisfy desires. He’d found a few fellas of like mind in the Army too, willing to “lend a hand”, so to speak... and sometimes more than hands. And while he never truly felt ashamed of his appetites - he didn't believe Steve could possibly understand. 

He knew Steve wouldn’t understand his life as the Winter Soldier, either. How they had taken him apart and remade him after every mission. Just how much blood was on his hands. The satisfaction it had given him, to complete a mission. That was what truly terrified him now. He had wanted to please his handlers, to do their bidding, to earn their praise. Steve thought getting his memories back was a good thing. But he would give anything to have nearly all of the past sixty years wiped out of his mind forever. 

And then there was Stark. Tony Stark: so much like his father - attractive and brilliant - yet definitely his own man. With all the free time he’d had on his hands the last few weeks, he had done a little digging to find out more about this billionaire playboy philanthropist. Quite the checkered past, it seemed, but mostly reformed. He’d even put the “playboy” label aside, apparently, as all the gossip rags showed were photos and stories about him and his lovely CEO and partner, Miss Potts. It seemed a bit odd that they hadn’t actually met her, that she hadn’t stopped by the personal quarters area of Stark Towers when she was in town on business. He guessed he didn’t understand how relationships between the rich and powerful worked. Or how relationships worked, period. 

There was something about Stark that had gotten to him. And it wasn’t just the physical attraction - although that definitely played a part. He liked his men dark, handsome and on the wiry side, and Stark checked all those boxes. And the two of them had actually had seemed to hit it off this evening, despite having barely spoken to each other at all in the preceding weeks. He thought he’d messed it all up with the pills - he’d completely forgotten Steve’s warning about not handing anything directly to Stark, but it didn’t seem to be an issue. Then there was the whole catching the guy before he went ass over teakettle... it had been surprisingly hard to let him go. 

And speaking of surprisingly hard... what he had (mostly) meant as a soothing gesture after popping Stark’s shoulder back into place turned into something else. Something treacherous. Stark’s moans of pleasure had been music to more than just his ears, and damn, if he still wasn’t at least at half-mast now. And the comment about sexual favors - well, his inner smartass just had to one-up that, didn’t he? He wasn’t sure whether he hoped Stark wouldn’t remember the tail end of their conversation, or if he hoped he would. Either way, he couldn’t leave the guy sprawled over the table like some sloppy drunk. 

He spotted an old couch in the corner with a few ratty blankets tossed over it. The engineer apparently made a habit of late nights in the shop. “Hey, Stark ... wake up... let’s get you a little more comfortable.” He shook the man’s uninjured shoulder and got no response. Sighing, he picked Stark up and carried him over to the couch. Dum-E beeped and rolled towards them, raising his arm as if to defend his creator. “It’s okay, buddy. I’m just putting your boss to bed. I'm not gonna hurt him. Promise.” The robot continued to complain, but let him walk past unhindered. He set Stark down, and pulled the blankets over the sleeping figure. He then retrieved Stark’s meds and a bottle of water, placing them within easy reach before quietly slipping out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI - implied past non-con (sorry, Bucky) - no specifics.

Tony woke up slowly, mildly disoriented and sore, belatedly realizing he was on the couch in the workshop, covered in blankets. Opening his eyes, he saw his pills and some water on the table in front of him. The last thing he remembered was getting one hell of a backrub from none other than James aka “Bucky” aka “Winter Soldier” Barnes. And some flirting - definitely flirting. Or had that just been a sleep-deprived hallucination?

“JARVIS, did I have any visitors last night?” 

“Yes, sir, Sergeant Barnes did spend some time in the workshop. However, I don’t believe his objective was fulfilled.” 

“Dammit - he wanted me to look at his arm, didn’t he? And I fell asleep on him instead.” Another missed opportunity to add to the pile of guilt. He’d try to make it up to the guy today, even it it was a bit embarrassing to have been put to bed by him. (No - do not combine the thought of “Barnes” and “bed”, don’t even go there.) Tony decided not to repeat the mistake of taking his meds on an empty stomach, and headed up to the common area kitchen for coffee and whatever he could scrounge out of the fridge. 

Rogers was in the kitchen, finishing up a mixing bowl’s worth of Raisin Bran. So, apparently, it was morning. As he poured himself a large mug of coffee, Stark asked, “Hey, Cap - where’s Barnes?”

“He’s having a bad day.” Rogers replied in a low voice. 

“Oh. Well, tell him I’m sorry about last night.” 

Rogers suddenly stood, fixed Tony with a glare, and said accusingly, “What did you do to him, Stark?” 

Tony put his hands up in a placating gesture. “Whoa, Cap. I didn’t do anything. That’s the problem. He came down to the workshop and asked me to take a look at his arm and I .. kinda.. fell asleep ... instead.” 

“What? Do you have any idea how much courage it took Bucky to go down there? After the hell HYDRA put him through in places that look just like that mad scientist’s lab of yours? Besides, I thought you were champing at the bit to take his arm apart.” And yes, of course, he was applying the patented Captain America Is Disappointed in You look. 

Tony really wasn’t in the mood to be lectured at by a cranky super-soldier, especially with only about a sip and a half of coffee in his system. “Hold on Rogers, remember that I got slammed into a building not once, but twice just... what was it, two days? Yeah, two days ago. And while my suit is goddamned tough, there are these ... squishy bits in it.” he said, gesturing to himself. “No super soldier serum here - just good old - yes, old, I’ve got more than a decade on you biologically, remember? Good old normal. Human. Flesh and blood.” 

“That still gives you no right to...” 

“Take it easy on ‘im, Stevie. ‘S not his fault.” A hoarse, slightly slurred voice spoke from behind Tony. He turned to see Barnes, looking pale and withdrawn, leaning against the doorway. 

“Bucky.... what are you doing here? I thought you wanted to be alone... like usual...” Rogers’ posture had changed in an instant from belligerent to concerned, and his voice was gentle. 

“Not this time... need to feel ... be with someone safe.” He shuffled forward, pausing for just a moment next to Tony, giving him a look he couldn’t quite read. Barnes then continued to Rogers, who immediately wrapped his arms around the other man. After a moment, they both sat back on the breakfast nook bench, Barnes practically curled up in Rogers’ lap. 

So, it was like that after all, Tony thought. It explained so much. Why Natasha hadn’t been able to set Cap up with any dates. Why Rogers had been so desperate to locate his friend.. no, his soulmate. Why they spent so much time together at the Tower. He couldn’t argue with a romance for the ages, now could he? So he tucked away the little wisp of hope that had blossomed and metaphorically squared his shoulders. 

“Barnes - sorry about last night. Let me know when you’re ready for me to take a look at your arm and I’ll drop whatever I’m working on. OK - maybe not literally - some of the stuff I tinker with is a teensy bit fragile, or has impact explosives incorporated into its structure. But you know what I mean. Mi workshop es su workshop. JARVIS - give Sergeant Barnes full access rights.” 

“Access granted, Sir.” Tony then grabbed a few protein bars out of the nearby cupboard, made a sketchy salute, and left the kitchen, pride mostly intact.

\-------------------

It hadn’t been one of his better days, he thought, standing once again in front of Stark’s workshop doors. It had started out fine, if a bit .... sticky. He was only mildly surprised, after getting revved up the night before, to have had what he suspected was his first wet dream since the late 1930’s. He was due for clean sheets anyways... and the possibility that his libido was coming back was a nice thought. 

But then he was hit with memories of being a plaything for some of the upper echelon of HYDRA. After a session in the chair, he had been pliant and all too eager to please. The rough trade john he’d once dealt with in the alley behind their Brooklyn apartment (telling Steve he’d gotten jumped by some guys from Queens) had been a walk in the park compared to what he had relived that morning. 

Steve had had to coax him out of the shower and help him get dressed. It wasn’t the first panic attack they’d faced in the past month, but it had been one of the worst in a while. Steve had then dimmed the lights, said “I’ll be in the common area kitchen if you need me, Buck.” and left. Normally, that was okay. He generally preferred to be left alone after an episode, but not this time. He needed to be reminded that he was a person - not a toy, not the Asset. Not something to be abandoned when it was no longer useful. He had to see, hear, touch and be touched by someone he trusted. Maybe even be held for a little while. Be reminded that physical contact didn’t have to involve pain. 

He heard the loud, forceful tones of Steve’s voice before he could make out the words. “.... just like that mad scientist’s lab of yours? Besides, I thought you were champing at the bit to take his arm apart.” 

Stark’s reply was less clear, but he caught something about being thrown into a building, (Steve hadn’t mentioned that, when he asked about their last mission) “squishy bits” and finally “... Good old normal. Human. Flesh and blood.” He knew that Stark and Rogers had scrapped before his arrival at the Tower, but there was no reason for this argument. Stark had done nothing wrong, it was just bad timing on his own part. 

He interrupted Steve before he could get a second wind. When Steve asked why he had left their suite, it was difficult to explain what he needed, but he managed to get the words out. Part of him wanted to reach out to Stark, but he wasn’t at all sure how the man might react; any possibility of rejection right now would break him. Besides, his arm was malfunctioning, causing spasms he couldn’t control. He might very well hurt Stark by accident. At least Steve had his super strength and healing abilities in his favor. 

So he went to Steve, and there was no hesitation, no judgement, just calm acceptance. He wondered if his pal saw this as repayment for all the times he’d watched over and cared for Steve back when he was sick. Stark reiterated his offer of assistance, and he knew he’d have to return to the workshop, but not quite yet. He needed time to recuperate from the latest episode before walking into a situation that might trigger another. But not fifteen minutes after Stark left, his arm lashed out so strongly that it cleared the table of the remains of Steve’s breakfast and left a dent in the wall. 

“What was that for, Buck?” Steve asked gently. Apparently he thought it was intentional. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d reacted physically after an episode. 

“It’s... malfunctioning. Shorting out or something. It started after...” he couldn’t finish the sentence. Steve nodded - he didn’t want to remember how they’d nearly killed each other either. “It hasn’t been too bad up til just recently. That’s why I went to see Stark last night. Probably should try again, sooner than later.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“No, that’s okay. I think it will go better if it’s just him and me.” He didn’t have the heart to tell Steve that he was sometimes a little too solicitous; he meant well, but it was a bit smothering at times. Besides, he wanted to see if that little spark he thought he felt between Stark and himself was for real, or something that had been based on Stark’s sleep-deprivation and drugs... and his own attraction. 

“You better eat something first. It might take awhile to figure out what’s wrong and Stark is known for his marathon workshop sessions. Two days without surfacing is about standard, but nowhere near his record.” Chow sounded good, so they raided the fridge together. The food, combined with the reassurance of Steve’s brotherly embrace, had done him a world of good. He felt normal, or as normal as it was possible for him to be at the moment. 

And now he was back at the workshop door, heart pounding, breathing accelerated. Admittedly, he was a bit jumpy about being triggered by something in that room, especially after that morning’s episode. But he had to be honest: a good part of his nervousness was just based on seeing Stark again, especially where he was most at home. 

“Stark - workshop scene, take two.” he called out as he entered the room. A bit of bluster had always worked well for him in the past. 

“We’re doing scenes now? How about master craftsman and bumbling apprentice?” Stark replied with a roguish grin as he turned around. But then his face fell. “Oh, sorry... guess that’s not really appropriate anymore.” 

“You mean because of Miss Potts.” he replied. He’d completely forgotten about Stark’s best girl last night. He might not be a good man, but he would never try to horn in on someone’s relationship. 

“No... she’s.. Pepper and I aren’t together anymore.” He paused, looking downcast for a moment. “But that’s not what I meant. I didn’t realize about you and Steve. It should have been obvious, but I don’t always catch on to obvious.” The explanation wasn’t helping; he gave Stark a clearly quizzical look, so he continued. “I didn’t know that you two were .... a couple. Makes sense, though.” 

After a moment of shock, he stifled a snort of laughter. “Would you believe Carter made the same mistake?” Now it was Stark’s turn to look confused. “She pulled me aside a couple of days after Steve got us out of that HYDRA work camp. She apologized, saying how she understood now, and that she’d bow out gracefully. She also made it quite clear that she’d never peach on us either - no blue tickets. When I mentioned it to Steve, he about busted a gut.” 

Stark shook his head. “So, you two aren’t ... you know... involved?” 

“Hell, no. I love Stevie like a brother and I’d do anything for him. Well, except that. That would just be wrong. Besides, unless you guys screwed something up when you defrosted him, Captain America is as straight as an arrow. Not much experience with the dames, mind you, and awfully picky, but that’s definitely the way he leans.” 

It seemed to take Stark a few moments to respond, finally saying, “So, have I completely misread you as well, Barnes?” He was pleased to see Stark's roguish grin had returned. In for a penny, in for a pound...

“Let’s just say I know what I like when I see it,” his eyes sweeping over the other man. His attempt at suave seduction ended abruptly when his arm convulsed again, this time clearing the better part of a workbench full of equipment. 

“Shit! Sorry, Stark... there’s some kind of short in the works.” He gritted his teeth until the pain, sharp shocks running up and down the arm, faded a bit. 

“Dum-E - clean up on aisle six. Don’t worry about it, Barnes. Walk me thru how to open this thing up without hurting you any worse. Ya know, I’ve got a whole pharmacopoeia of pain meds here - feel free to partake.” Stark gestured to the now-familiar pill bottles. 

“No such luck, Stark. Whatever version of the super soldier stuff those HYDRA bastards shot me up with burns right thru most of that stuff. Same with booze ... “I get no kick from champagne, Mere alcohol, Doesn't thrill me at all...” 

Stark joined in on the next two lines of the song in a surprisingly good baritone: “So tell me, why should it be true, That I get a kick out of you.”


	3. Chapter 3

This was not happening, Tony thought. Surely he’d wake up any minute... there was no way he and Barnes (who was NOT Captain America’s main squeeze after all, thank God) were actually singing an acapella duet of a Cole Porter song. They made it through the next verse, although the cocaine reference hit a little close to the bone, considering his younger years. Barnes broke off the song with a sly grin. 

“So, are we going to do this, Stark?” Barnes’ husky voice and smirk actually made Tony’s knees go a little weak. A small cowardly part of him wanted to flee screaming into the night - there were so many ways this could go so terribly wrong. But the better part of him insisted on seeing whatever-this-was through. He would play along and see whose bluff got called first. 

“Just waiting for you to say the word, Barnes, ” he replied, with a come-hither expression he remembered had been quite effective with his previous flings. Dum-E, the little cock-blocker, rolled up between them, waving the fire extinguisher around. 

“Damnit, Dum-E - No! Don’t even think about contemplating to consider pressing that lever! I will melt you down for roller skate keys and you will be even more useless than you are now!”

“What, people don’t roller skate anymore?” And he honestly couldn’t tell if Barnes was joking or not. This man was going to be the death of him, he just knew it. 

He decided to play the straight man (so to speak). “Well, kinda - except the wheels are all inline, like ice skates and it’s called rollerblading. Give JARVIS your shoe size and he’ll order you a pair. Now, where were we?” 

He had moved slightly so a waist-high lab bench was between them, providing some cover for the hardon he knew he was starting to sport. He couldn’t remember the last time that the sexual-innuendo level of flirting had gotten him this turned on. 

“You were waiting for me to say the word,” Barnes replied, with an even sexier grin on his face. “And I have lots of words for you, Stark. Words like “More”.... “Harder”.... “Faster” ... “Oh God, Yes....” The playful moan of the last phrase went straight to his brain's pleasure center. So the gloves were off now.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I was taught not to talk with my mouth full. And with your cooperation, I expect my mouth will be very full.” Tony rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek, then across his lips, all the while staring directly into the other man’s eyes... the blue-grey of their irises a mere rim around his blown-wide pupils. 

“Oh... fuck..... Tony....” That was an actual moan, not a put-on like before. Excellent.. and this was way too easy, he thought.

“It would be my pleasure, James,” he purred in reply. “But let me take a look at your arm first.” Check and mate.

“Are you serious?” He heard both hope and need in James’ voice, saw it on his face. It wasn’t a game anymore. This could really happen. Maybe just a one night stand, maybe something more, but he wanted it too. 

“Yes, I am.” He paused, then continued. “But Cap will have my hide if we don’t do something about your arm right now. You heard him chewing me out earlier - I can’t fuck up again.” 

They shared a long look before Barnes broke off, saying “Damn your good sense and logical mind.” 

“Sorry, sunshine. It’s a package deal - brain and body. Let’s put the former to good use now, and the latter later.” He thought he’d got that right.... even though said brain was not getting its usual blood flow. He turned and started rummaging in the tool cabinet. 

\-----------------------------------------

His head was swimming. He wasn’t quite sure who had propositioned who, to be honest. And it didn’t matter. But Stark was right, they needed to focus on getting his arm fixed before risking a tumble in the sheets. That is, if their verbal foreplay hadn’t just all been for show. It had started that way for him, but he ended up meaning every word. 

As Stark collected the tools he would need for the examination, he took his shirt off, intending simply to make it easier to access the entire prosthetic, which extended partway across his chest and back. “Oh James, that is just not fair!” Stark growled, half-joking, half serious. 

“Sorry.... but not really.” he replied, flexing his muscles just a bit as he leaned back against the counter. He assumed Stark would be repulsed by the scars, but he didn’t seem at all fazed. Which of course, made the man even more desirable. But they had work to do. 

The first step was easy. Stark had JARVIS do scans of the arm, and all he had to do was sit still with his arm first extended in front of him, then out to the side, then bent at the elbow, fist raised to the ceiling. 

He had dreaded the next step, the hands-on examination. But Stark let him take the lead; and he found that being in control of the process, pointing out where the access ports were, what each hunk of circuitry controlled and other details made it almost bearable. He was actually surprised at how much he knew, had retained from the time spent passively observing, watching as the techs checked over the arm and made repairs after each mission. 

And Stark was like a kid in a candy store, taking frantic notes, asking questions he had no idea how to even start answering and constantly suggesting ways to improve the technology. Several comments he assumed were some sort of movie or television show references: “Don't cross the streams. It would be bad” “Dum-E, we live in a strange and wondrous time.” and something about a T-800. He had learned to not even bother asking. Steve was keeping a list, but that seemed like a lot of work. 

It was more than little overwhelming, but in a good way. Unlike Steve, who had been treating his lost friend like a porcelain doll; Stark seemed to be his normal, frenetic self, digging right into the problem and expecting that either he would keep up or say something when he’d had enough. He’d seen that briefly the night before, then more so just now, when their banter had turned downright combative. And as they worked together to figure this mess out, he was feeling more comfortable in his skin than he had since he and Steve had reunited. 

But the process hadn’t gone totally smoothly. Some of the poking and prodding had hurt, and there had been more spasms. Stark had been agile enough to avoid getting tagged, for the most part. And the one potentially dangerous swing neither of them saw coming ... well, Dum-E had intervened and taken the blow instead. It had left an impressive dent in a support strut, and he apologized both to Stark and the bot. So if he really believed in and trusted the man in front of him, one hand on a tablet, drawing a diagram, while the other shifted wires deep inside his forearm, he had to tell him about the kill switch. 

“Stark... one last thing. There should be a plate on the back of my shoulder - flips up like an access port. Do you see some sort of toggle?” He turned slightly, so Stark could locate what he was describing. 

“Sure do - what is it?” 

“It deactivates the arm.” 

Stark’s head snapped up. “I don’t think that’s possible.... I’m no bio-engineer, but the way they tied the nerve bundles into the circuitry....” 

“I don’t know how it works, it just does. When they had to do serious repair work, they flipped that switch and the whole thing went dead. No movement at all.” He pressed his lips together, trying to suppress the memories of the last time the techs had needed to use that option. 

“What’s the catch, Barnes? There’s something you’re not telling me.” He should have known better than to try to get something by Stark - he was damned sharp. 

“Well, it’s not exactly... comfortable to have it switched off.” Understatement of the century; it felt like liquid fire coursing over his entire no-longer-existent arm. 

“Okay, now that makes sense. Deprived of the electrical stimulation of the active circuits, the nerves would start randomly firing... similar to phantom pain syndrome.” 

“It’s a hell of a phantom, then, that’s all I gotta say.” 

“I bet.” Stark paused for a moment, lost in thought. “JARVIS, review the scans and read through my notes. Come up with the best approach to the repairs. Barnes - how about we take a break and get something to eat? 

“Are you asking me out on a dinner date, Stark?” With the worst over for now (he refused to think about how bad the actual repair would be), he was feeling playful again. 

“If by dinner date, you mean grabbing some take out and sitting our asses down in front of the boob tube, well, then nothing but the best for you, sunshine.” Stark stood, stretched luxuriously and started for the door. 

“Uh, do we have to leave the shop?” He felt suddenly apprehensive; afraid that if they went back out into the wider world, even just back upstairs, everything would change, return back to the way it was. He didn’t want to lose this easy camaraderie that just might mean something more. 

Stark turned, giving him an appraising look. “I thought you’d be sick of this place by now ... to say the least of the company. But smoothies and protein bars do not a repast make - we need something a bit more substantial.” 

“You asked me out - you pick. I trust your judgement.” 

“More like after the Depression and the Army, you’ll eat anything put in front of you.” Stark retorted. 

“Guilty as charged - grub is grub. Except chocolate. Really good chocolate is better than sex. At least from what I can remember... it’s been awhile since I’ve had either, ” he grinned wryly. 

“Remind me to take you to Switzerland so we can test that hypothesis out quite thoroughly. In the meanwhile, sit tight. JARVIS - pull up some Cole Porter to entertain our guest while I’m gone.” The opening notes of “Anything Goes” floated out of the speakers, and Stark blew him a kiss as he left the workshop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the title makes a little more sense now... tho I almost went with "Fighting Vainly the Old Ennui"
> 
> [ Lyrics to "I Get a Kick Out of You" ](https://play.google.com/music/preview/T37urwcj5t4e5gm7aqreymhpxtq?lyrics=1&utm_source=google&utm_medium=search&utm_campaign=lyrics&pcampaignid=kp-lyrics)
> 
>  
> 
> Dum-E is kind of a jerk, but JARVIS is definitely playing matchmaker with his musical choices... I'll let you Google the other songs.


	4. Chapter 4

Tony leaned against the wall as the workshop door closed behind him. He didn’t know what he was more stunned and amazed by: the technological marvels of Barnes’ arm, or the verbal foreplay brinksmanship the two of them had engaged in. He had joked many times with Banner about getting tech boners, but combining that experience with an actual hardon... he was surprised he could string more than a few words together. Or walk a straight line. 

"JARVIS - what should I order for dinner? What does James like?" He wanted to do this right - make a good impression. Damn if he wasn’t actually thinking of it as a date. 

"I believe Sergeant Barnes has expressed a fondness for Italian food, sir. " 

"Perfect! Thank you, J." He speed dialed Luigi's and placed his order. 30 minutes later, the delivery girl was leaving Stark Tower, a stunned look on her face. He wasn’t sure if it was the kiss on her cheek or the $50 tip she'd received, but he was happy to have given both. He found himself whistling “Bella Notte” as he headed back to the workshop. 

“Are you trying to teach my robot how to dance?” Barnes was standing in front of Dum-E, the robot’s claw in one hand, his other lightly holding the main support column. He was counting out loud “One-two-three-four, five-six-seven-eight” as “Let’s Misbehave” played over the speakers. 

“Trying is the key word - he’s worse than Steve was! Must have four left wheels.” 

Tony just shook his head. “C’mere. Let me prove that not all Starks are hopelessly clumsy.” He set the food on a handy counter, and as Barnes came up to him, he put his right hand on the other man’s hip, took his other hand and stretched out their arms, leading into a foxtrot just as “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” began. It took his partner a few moments to get the hang of following his lead, but Barnes caught on fast. 

“Where’d you learn to dance, Stark? Charm school?”

“The equivalent for young men of certain social standing, yes. I also know the proper forms of address for everyone from the Queen of England down to her stable hands.” 

“Ever met her?”

“Who - the queen? No...” 

“I have. Steve still swears we made it up, but he’s just jealous that he wasn’t there.” Again, Tony couldn’t quite tell whether to take him seriously or not. Barnes continued, “Hey, JARVIS, you got any Ellington on the jukebox?.” The song faded out, and “I Got it Bad, and That Ain’t Good” started playing. His AI’s musical choices were entirely too on the nose. 

“Um.... the food’s getting cold,” he eventually interrupted. Barnes had taken over the lead, and Tony felt an absurd desire to rest his head on the other man’s shoulder. He’d always slightly resented it when Pepper wore her sky-high heels, but the few inches of height difference between the two of them here was... nice. 

“So it is.” his partner replied, and pulled Tony so close that their thighs brushed together. Unfortunately, Barnes’ stomach took that opportunity to rumble loudly, and he blushed. 

“Might as well take the hint, sunshine. JARVIS, put the music on hold and set up the home theater, please.” As he set out the containers of lasagna, linguine and tortelloni, a projector and screen slid down from the ceiling. Dum-E poked around in a drawer, locating the remote control and bringing it to Tony. “Thanks, kiddo,” he said, patting the bot fondly. 

Tony started idly flipping through the television channels. “Wait, stop!” Barnes called out, spotting a black and white shot of a young woman, dressed in gingham, standing in a farmyard. “This is... it’s the _Wizard of Oz_ , isn’t it? People still watch this?” 

“Sure, it’s considered a classic. Did you ever read the books?” Tony replied. 

“You bet .... all the Baum ones at least. Got ‘em from the library to read aloud to Steve when he was sick. He’d sketch the characters; I liked his versions better than the Denslow illustrations. Him ‘n me spent most of one Saturday at the theater when the movie first came to our neighborhood. Sat through it three times before the ushers kicked us out!"

“I read the whole series too.” he replied with a smile. “Tried to build my own Tik-Tok when I was seven or eight. Guess that’s where Dum-E came from. JARVIS, we’ve got this film, don’t we? Let’s start from the beginning.”

JARVIS queued it up, and they ate their meal while reliving Dorothy’s adventures. He found himself watching Barnes instead of the movie, charmed by his absorption in the film. He was absurdly pleased to have made his friend so happy with something so simple. 

Barnes' commentary was particularly endearing: "You shoulda seen Stevie's face when they first showed this - even he could see how colorful Oz was!" .... "Remember, how in the book, they all had to wear glasses when they entered the Emerald City?" ... "The Flying Monkeys made my little sister scream when they first showed up on screen - had to take her out to the lobby and buy her some candy to calm her down.” 

As the credits played, Barnes turned to him and said with a bright, wide smile, "Best first date I've had in years."

Tony laughed, even as his heart skipped a beat. "Me too." He and Pepper hadn’t really had a first date; their relationship just kind of happened. Maybe that was part of the problem. 

“Dinner and a movie .. wait, you’re not planning on trying to get fresh with me now, are you, Stark?” There was the smirk from before, but it was tempered with a note of caution. 

“Well, eventually... yes. I thought I’d made that clear already,” he answered, more seriously than he'd intended. "All in good time." Barnes then stretched out on the couch and put his head in Tony’s lap. Tony froze in anticipation, but his companion curled on his side facing the screen, stifled a yawn and asked if they could watch the movie again. 

“Sure. JARVIS, if you please...” He put his arm around the other man’s shoulders, who then fell asleep before Dorothy stepped foot on the Yellow Brick Road. Tony resisted the temptation to run his fingers through James' hair, opting instead to call out quietly, “JARVIS, could you patch me through to Cap?” 

After a moment, Rogers’ sleep-fuzzy voice came over the speakers. “Stark? What’s going on?” 

“Sorry to wake you, Cap. Just wanted to give you an update. Barnes walked me through what’s going on with his arm and JARVIS did some scans. He’s working on a plan for the repairs, which we’ll probably start tomorrow morning. We had some dinner and Mr. Super-Soldier is out like a light at the moment, so I don’t know if he’ll make it back upstairs or not. Didn’t want you to worry that I was keeping your pal up til all hours.” What you should be worrying about is how hard I’ve fallen for him, he thought. 

“Uh - okay... thanks for the update.” Rogers mumbled, “Oh - sometimes Bucky has nightmares. He might, you know.. flail around a bit. Good idea to to move anything fragile away.” Tony heard Rogers sigh. “I wish I knew how to help him more....” 

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up. You brought him back from hell, and he’s doing a lot better than he was. G’night, Cap.”

“Thanks, Tony. Good night.” 

He then maneuvered around into a more comfortable position, ending up with James’ head and shoulders resting against his body, legs stretched out to either side of the sleeping man. His joints and muscles might regret this in the morning, but his heart was content. Dum-E brought over some extra pillows and helped him spread out the blankets so they were both covered up. He found himself matching the pace of James’ breaths, and soon joined him in sleep. 

\----------------

He wondered for a moment why whatever he was laying on felt so lumpy, when it moved, just a little. What the... wait... he was on the couch in the workshop, sprawled over Stark. Their legs tangled together, the other man’s arm tucked under his, stretched across his chest. The last he remembered, they were starting to watch _The Wizard of Oz_ again after dinner. He wasn’t sure how they’d ended up like this, but he wasn’t complaining. He hadn't slept so well for ages. 

“I hope you’re awake, Barnes. My back teeth are floating and I am in desperate need of caffeine.” He carefully shifted, giving Stark the room he needed to get up off the couch. He then curled into the residual warmth left by the other man’s body and pulled the blankets over his head, dozing until he felt Stark sit back down and smelled the heavenly scent of coffee. Good coffee was one of the wonders of the 21st century. He snaked an arm out from under the covers, and felt around blindly, hoping Stark had thought to bring some for him. When no cup was forthcoming, he sat up blearily, still swathed in blankets. 

“Not much for mornings are you? Bet Cap drives you crazy with his ‘Run fifteen miles at oh-too-goddamn-early’ exercise program doesn’t he? Speaking of Rogers, I gave him a quick update last night and told him you were camping out down here. Didn’t want the mama hen to worry.” Stark handed him a large mug of strong, black java and he was in love all over again. 

“Once you’re conscious - the washroom is over there. Shower and everything. Spare clothes in the closet, if you can find something that fits.” 

There was a pair of sweatpants that worked well enough, but he didn’t bother putting a shirt on after his shower; he’d just have to take it back off anyways once they started the repairs on his arm. Instead, he draped one towel over his shoulders and used the other to dry his hair as he stepped back into the workshop. 

He raised his head just in time to see Stark staring back at him with an expression that was both captivated and amused. “Okay - you are never allowed to wear a shirt in this workshop ever again. JARVIS, got some good news for us?”

“Yes and no, Sir. I was indeed able to devise a plan that should allow for a complete rehabilitation of Sergeant Barnes’ prosthetic. However, several of these repairs involve very precise adjustments that will require the arm to be immobilized.” 

His mouth went dry, and he sat down heavily. They’d have to use the goddamned kill switch. He thought to tell Stark to call it off, but no. It had to be done, and he trusted him to do the job quickly and safely. 

“Just immobilized, not completely deactivated?” Stark sounded like he had something up his sleeve. 

“Correct, Sir. In fact, deactivation presents certain risks that immobilization does not, as we do not completely understand the biological interface and what, if any, long-term effects deactivation would have on that interface. There is also a concern that, once deactivated, we would be unable to restart the system." 

“Gotcha, J.” Stark came over, crouched down to look him in the face, taking both of James’ hands in his. “So, you told me about the switch, and it sounds pretty damn awful. An alternative is to restrain your arm for just long enough to complete each repair. I know, I know, it’s a shitty choice. I saw photos of the chair - I’d have torn it to pieces too. But it’s an option.” 

He was silent for a moment, then continued. “Why don’t you think about it for a bit, and in the meantime, I’ll kludge something together that maybe we can use.” Giving his hands a light squeeze, Stark stood, then picked up a set of headphones. “JARVIS - queue up my “Engineering the Shit Out of This” playlist and send it to these.” He put the set on, and then walked over to the other side of the workshop, where several sharp looking cars sat. 

James stood and started pacing. “JARVIS?” He knew the voice was some sort of robot brain, but couldn’t help but envision a proper British butler, speaking into a candlestick phone. 

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” 

“Can I have a word with you.... privately?” 

“Sir is currently destroying what remains of his hearing with the cacophony he insists in calling music - he cannot hear our conversation.” 

“So - what do you think I should do?”

“As I mentioned earlier, there are concerns with the deactivation option in terms of potential effects. Immobilization would cause no damage to the prosthetic.” 

“It’s not the arm I’m worried about.” he answered darkly. He knew that being restrained, even with good intent, could be a huge panic attack trigger. 

“I feel certain Sir would not allow you to come to harm, Sergeant.” He realized that JARVIS had observed everything that had gone on between Stark and him over the past two days. Suppressing a flare of embarrassment, he probed for information. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“You may not be aware that for Sir, this workshop is his fortress; his place of safety, his refuge. The fact that he has not only permitted, but encouraged and .. appreciated... your presence here speaks volumes as to his regard for you. The only other people to whom he has granted full access are Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes.” 

His former lover, and his lifelong friend, James thought. 

“If I may add an observation,” the voice continued, “Sir is not an easy man to care for; however, I feel you would find the effort ....worthwhile.” 

“Thank you, JARVIS... and I think you’re right.” As if in answer, the opening notes of Porter’s “Night and Day” started to play over the room’s speakers. He shook his head, laughing softly. Stark came back over a few minutes later, taking off the headphones and gesturing to the ceiling. 

“Did you pick this tune?” 

“Nah - JARVIS is still in charge of the jukebox. But I approve of his choices.” 

“Is that so? Well... c’mon over here and I’ll show you what I was working on.” Stark put a hand on his shoulder to lead him over to where he had been tinkering. “It’s not pretty, but I was working on a tight time schedule.” 

He had taken an engine hoist, bolted it to the floor, then attached what could only be described as shackles to the frame - two on the horizontal bar, one on the vertical. “They’re actually mounted on rods, so they can be slid into different positions, depending on which access port we need to get to. Plus, there’s a quick release right here,” Stark demonstrated, pushing a lever. The cuffs all sprung open. He still didn’t like the look of it, a chill crawling up his spine, but it seemed the best option. 

Stark must’ve sensed his tension, because he turned to face him with a soft, yet serious look. “It’s up to you, James. Either option works for me. I don’t want you to feel pressured just because I threw this together. I know how important choices are right now, trust me.” He took both his hands again. “I can fix this. Just tell me what you want to do.” 

James nodded his head at the contraption. “Alright - let’s get this over with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun picking out songs for this chapter... here's what I heard in my mind's eye (thanks to YouTube)  
> * [ "Let’s Misbehave" - Cole Porter/Irving Aaronson](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JctNtRfHRLU%20)  
> * [ I’ve Got You Under My Skin - Cole Porter/Lee Wiley & unknown orchestra](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RWj2JExwPGA)  
> * [“I Got It Bad (And That Ain’t Good)” - Duke Ellington/ Peggy Lee and the Benny Goodman Orchestra ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8j0xYRzlrbk)  
> * [“Night and Day” Cole Porter/Frank Sinatra ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U43_f1LSKxs)
> 
> **Other inspirations, etc.**  
> [ The Commandos and the Queen](http://politzania.tumblr.com/post/132475443766/whedonite-whovian-winchester-ozhawkauthor) (scroll down to grownupgeek girl’s story) - I took artistic license to put Bucky in here as well.


	5. Chapter 5

Tony had set up a separate work area for the majority of the repairs. Barnes sat, clearly trying to appear more relaxed than he really was, and placed his arm on the table. Dum-E came up behind him and rested his claw on his new friend’s shoulder, gently moving it back and forth and humming softly.

“Is your robot pal trying to comfort me?” he asked, with a quirk of a smile. 

“Dum-E’s surprisingly empathetic for a hunk of junk. JARVIS, where do we start?” 

“Um - one thing...” Barnes interrupted. “Would you mind... talking to me while you’re fixing things? They always acted as if I weren’t even there...” Tony knew exactly who he meant by “they”; giving him yet another reason to rain hell on the next HYDRA asshole he met up with. 

“Like you could get me to shut up, Barnes. Any particular conversation topics you’d fancy?”

“Tell me about your friends. Like how you met Rhodes...” As he started the repairs, Tony found himself reminiscing about meeting Rhodey at M.I.T and how the guy taken a smartass kid who was socially way out of his depth under his wing. He described some of the practical joke hacks they had been involved in, both during their time on campus, as well as alumni. 

“... I can neither confirm nor deny providing material assistance to the Howe & Ser Moving Company about ten years ago, though the precision laser cut giant aluminum Brass Rat ring does bear a striking resemblance to a schematic somewhere in JARVIS’ data banks.” JARVIS then displayed a slide show of photos of the hack. 

“Why am I not surprised you helped a buncha college kids steal a cannon and ship it across the country, Stark?” 

They took a short break before the first session that required the prosthetic to be immobilized. JARVIS had estimated ten minutes for the repair and Tony finished in eight, sharing stories about more of the stupid stuff he’d done (and Rhodey had to rescue him from) in college. He unlatched the restraints, then went to get them both some water. 

Barnes seemed to be doing okay; so he didn’t ask how he felt or what was going on in his head. Tony had hated being asked those same questions after Afghanistan. He just passed over a bottle and waited, attention mostly focused on a tablet that detailed the next phase of the repairs.

“Okay... I’m ready for the next round.” His voice was low, but determined. This time Tony talked about restoring his 1932 Ford roadster. He’d pegged Barnes as a car guy, despite having grown up in a place and time where having his own wheels was probably only a dream. He described the rather sad shape the car had been in when he’d got it and how much of his own literal blood, sweat, and tears had gone into restoring it. How he’d agonized about handing his baby over to the paint shop, but couldn’t have asked for a better result. 

“So, where is she?” Barnes cast his eyes around the workshop, scanning through the row of vehicles on display. 

“Lost her to some assholes with a helicopter and a shitload of missiles.” Tony stated flatly. He tried not to think too much about the whole Mandarin/AIM mess. Barnes had plenty of his own shit to deal with; he didn’t need to add his own woes to the mix. 

“Oh... sorry.” 

“One of the drawbacks of being a superhero. It makes you a target. And Round Two is done.” This time, after being released, Barnes got to his feet and paced restlessly, while Tony tried to walk the fine line between giving him the space he needed, and appearing indifferent. He knew he wasn’t good at this kind of thing, but he wanted to be. 

“Wish to God I could down a shot of something to steady my nerves."

“I think I still have some Everclear. It’s 190 proof; tastes god-awful, but might make a dent.” He fished around in the back of a cabinet, having hidden it from Dum-E after a particularly potent smoothie left him gasping for air after a single mouthful. He located the bottle and handed it to Barnes, who promptly took a healthy swig. 

“Christ - you weren’t kidding! How do you actually drink this rotgut?” he sputtered. 

“I don’t - not any more.” His adult beverage of choice in recent years had been well-aged scotch, ... and he’d hit the bottle a bit too hard after Pepper left. Funny how he hadn’t had the urge to drink at all over the past couple days. They waited to see if the alcohol had any effect; Barnes finally admitted to feeling “just a bit tight” and they settled in for the next to last set of repairs. 

\------------

He quickly realized that this session was not going to go well. The stories Stark was telling about Carter (who Tony called "Aunt Peggy") just brought back the war in gruesome detail. He remembered the mud, the cold, the hunger and thirst, the stench of unwashed bodies and blood. So much blood. The alcohol was burning a hole in his gut, and the antiseptic tang it had left in the air brought to mind that first lab in Krausberg.

Stark’s voice broke through his upwelling panic. “Barnes ... James.... listen. It’s okay. You’re here, in my workshop, in Avengers Tower in New York City. Steve is only a few floors away - do you want him to come down? Do you want me to stop?” 

He shook his head, pushing a “No” from his lips. He couldn’t ask for rescue again. He’d let Steve down too many times. And they’d come too far to stop the repairs now. 

“Is that a “no” for both questions, James? I just want to be clear.” He clung to Stark’s calm words like a drowning man. 

“No Steve and don’t stop. Gotta finish.” It would be over soon. He was not in the chair. He did not have a biteguard in his mouth. There were no clamps coming down to lock around his head, to send bolts of electricity surging through his brain, to wipe his memory clean for the next mission. He was not the Asset. He was not the Winter Soldier. He was James Buchanan Barnes, Sergeant. Serial number three-two-five-five-seven.....

\------------------

“Sir... ”

“Just a sec, JARVIS, I need to finish this last solder - goddamn, they couldn’t have possibly packed any more circuitry into this thing, could they?” 

“Sir - Sergeant Barnes’ pulse rate has just increased by 30 percent and his eyes have lost focus.” 

“Shit! Call Rogers - tell him to come down right away - and make sure the workshop door is unlocked.” He hit the quick release lever for the restraints, only to be caught sharply on the side of his face by James’ metal hand, as he curled his arm closely into his chest. He shook his own head to try to clear it, and glanced down to see only blankness on the pale face in front of him. 

“Hey ... James .. snap out of it. It’s okay, you’re safe. It’s going to be all right.” He tried shaking his shoulders to rouse him, but there was no response. Hands on either side of the other man’s face, Tony stroked his cheeks with his thumbs. “C’mon, don’t do this, sweetheart... I need you. You can’t leave me. Please. ” And ... he was kissing James. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, he’d just done it. 

He found himself pouring his passion, his loneliness, his longing (not lust, not desire, just a yearning for connection) into that single moment. Eyes wide open, to remember everything. James’ lips were cool and still at first, then they warmed, and he started to respond. Once he opened his eyes, and Tony could confirm he was in the here and now again, he gently broke off the kiss. 

“Welcome back, sunshine.” He felt James’ arms reach up around him as they touched foreheads. 

“Sir - Captain Rogers is here.” JARVIS’ voice broke the spell. Tony glanced up; the Captain was standing not more than eight feet away, confusion and concern (but not disgust, not anger) clear on his face. Tony slowly stood and took James’ hand, carefully moving and turning the chair so they both faced Rogers. 

“This isn’t what it looks like.” Tony blurted out. “No, wait.. it’s pretty much exactly what it looks like. Yes, I was kissing James. No I didn’t exactly have explicit consent; but I’m pretty sure implicit consent had been granted previously. Besides, it was an emergency. He was having a panic attack and hadn’t responded to anything else I tried. And yes, he has no shirt on and yes, his arm was being restrained, but only during particularly fiddly bits of repair - I hit the quick release the moment he went under and got this shiner for my trouble,” he finished, gesturing at the quickly swelling mark around his right eye. 

James raised his left arm and waved at Rogers, while squeezing Tony’s hand with his right. “It’s OK, Steve. I’m fine. Tony did the right thing. He’s taking care of me.” 

“That’s ....good, Buck.” Rogers replied slowly. “But, I’m still kinda .... confused. Stark, you’re...” 

Tony interrupted “... known for my extensive history of sexual liaisons? Well, just the public ones were with women; my male partners have been much more discreet. And I am currently a free man; Pepper broke things off a few weeks ago, just after you two arrived, in fact.” 

Rogers blinked. “I’m sorry to hear that, Tony.” He sounded quite sincere. 

“So was I.. but considerably less so, now.” This earned him a hand squeeze from James. 

“So ... Bucky... what about...” 

“Steve... Carter may have been wrong about us, but she had me pegged pretty good.” He shrugged. “I’ve always been a fella who mostly liked other fellas. I guess it’s okay now - you showed me some of the “Welcome to the 21st Century” stuff you got from SHIELD - but you know what it was like back then. I’m sorry I never told you.” 

After a quiet moment, Rogers nodded in acceptance. “Well, better late than never, jerk.” 

“Forgive me, punk?” Tony heard the heartfelt intent behind his flippant tone. 

“Yeah, I suppose.” Rogers replied, stepping over to ruffle James’ hair. Tony found himself unclenching his empty fist - apparently he’d been willing to fight Captain America bare handed for James’ honor. But instead, he had to give the old man credit. 

Rogers took a deep breath. “Well... this was all quite unexpected... but everything seems to be working out okay. Just...” and Tony saw his eyes flicker from him to James and back, “...he’s been through a lot. Be careful with him.” 

“Listen Cap, I know I’ve got a lousy track record, but ....” he started. 

“I wasn’t only talking to you, Stark.” Rogers finished, and went to leave the workshop. He looked back before reaching the doorway, and said “Hey, take him out somewhere nice when you’re done.” 

\------------------------  
He closed his eyes and tried to collect his thoughts. So much was spinning through his head - the panic attack, finally telling Steve the truth about himself, the kiss, and what he hoped it meant going forward. Fingers still entwined with Tony’s, he felt the other man sit down, heard a massive sigh. “So, now what, sunshine?” 

“How’s about we pick up where we left off?” 

“You mean with the fixing, or the kissing? I’m good with either, really... at least I hope I was good ... with the kiss, that is. Well... and the fixing, but mostly the kissing. I didn’t mean to plant one on you without, you know... actually checking first, but like I told Cap...” 

“Whoa - slow down, Tony. It’s all right. Better than all right, trust me. But like you said before, let’s put your brain to good use first. JARVIS - where are we at on the tuneup?” He would have liked nothing better than to find out just where that kiss was leading, but he was pretty sure his arm wasn’t 100% fixed yet. 

“There are approximately thirty minutes worth of repairs remaining.” the AI replied. 

“Shit.” Tony sounded both angry and crushed. 

“Gotta be done. Tell me about the ‘somewhere nice’ you’re gonna take me.” He figured they both needed the distraction to get through the rest of the work. 

“Well, I did mention Switzerland earlier. We could pack some bags, I’ll file a flight plan, get Happy to run us out to the airport and we could be wheels up in a hour and a half - two hours tops. It’s about an eight hour flight to Zurich and the Stark Industries jet has a very comfy bed. So we could either sleep, or indulge in other activities, so we can test out your “sex vs chocolate” hypothesis based on up to date references....” 

Tony continued spinning a tale of visiting the top chocolatiers in the world, jetting from city to city, with some bedroom action sprinkled inbetween. He listened, but mostly watched Tony, so totally in his element. Hands moving surely and deftly as they made minute adjustments, the line of concentration between his brows, the way he kept glancing up with little smiles and winks. 

“Richard Donnelly is amazing if you’re into exotic flavors like lavender, saffron, or Earl Grey tea, but if we’re in the San Francisco area, we gotta visit Ghirardelli.... and what do you know - we’re all done!” He saw Tony’s face light up with a mix of relief and satisfaction. 

JARVIS insisted in running a battery of tests on the arm while Tony hovered nervously. 

“Jesus, Stark, back off already! Let JARVIS ‘n me get this over with! You’re acting just like Steve!” 

“I resent that remark, Barnes. Cap stands for truth, justice and the American Way; while I’m a sneaky self-absorbed former weapons czar. And a bit of a pervert, too.” 

“All I’m saying is you can both be pains in the neck sometimes. And Steve ain’t as squeaky clean as you think - he cheats like a son of a bitch at cards.” 

JARVIS interrupted. “It appears the prosthetic is back to full function, Sergeant.” 

“Congratulations - you are now a fully armed and operational battle station.” Stark exclaimed. Realizing after a moment that it was probably just another pop culture reference and not anything darker, James gave Tony a skeptical look. 

“Oh come on - I know Steve’s seen _Star Wars_ , I put it on his list... he hasn’t shown you at least the original trilogy?” Tony took his arm as they walked toward the workshop door. “We can watch it on the plane, unless we get otherwise distracted. Ready to head to the airport?” 

“No, Tony.... I’ve got a place in mind. You like Japanese?” 

 

About an hour later, they stepped into an unprepossessing restaurant only a few blocks from the Tower, where they were greeted by the elderly proprietor. 

“Mr. Barnes-san, so nice to see you again! And who is your friend?” 

“This is Tony. Tony, meet Mr. Hazukawa. I started coming here when I was... shadowing Steve. He was kind to a stranger who knew nothing about sushi. ” He thought back to the first couple of months after the battle in DC, when he was slowly recovering his memories; rebuilding himself while keeping a watch on his former target. “Hazukawa-sama, could we start with some sake and udon, please?” 

He wasn’t really sure what to expect from this date. Considering his last one had been over seventy years ago -- and with a dame -- he was a bit at a loss. But Tony seemed completely at ease with the situation. They sat at a booth, and he hooked one of his feet around James’ ankle under the table; then, as they talked, casually rested a hand atop his. Tony insisted on paying, claiming “Captain’s orders!” and they took a slight detour on the way back to walk through Bryant Park, surprisingly quiet in the late autumn evening. 

“Let’s head back to the Tower. It's been a long, hard day, full of emotional turmoil and dinosaur fights.” 

Now you’re just making it easy - Clint’s choice for movie night last week was _Meet the Robinsons_.” 

“I’ll make a pop culture geek out of you yet, Barnes.” 

As they entered the private elevator, his hand hovered over the button panel. Should he press the floor for the team’s common area? For the floor that he and Steve shared? Honestly, he’d be happy going back to the workshop; wherever Tony was, that was where he wanted to be. And not necessarily just tonight - maybe for the foreseeable future. 

Tony leaned over and pressed the button for the penthouse. “How about you come up and see my etchings?” He rolled his eyes at the comic leer that accompanied that worn out come-on line.


	6. Chapter 6

He actually had a nice collection of etchings - a few Dürers, a couple of Rembrandts and one of William Blake’s amazing Divine Comedy pieces - curated, of course, by Pepper. James laughed in surprise when he showed them off as part of his tour of the penthouse. 

“I never know when to take you seriously, Tony.” 

“All part of my grand scheme of seduction.” They stepped out onto the deck, and he had JARVIS run the landing platform and removal bots thru their paces because, honestly, it was pretty awesome to watch it do its stuff. 

“I’m hoping the process to get you out of what you’re wearing now isn’t that complicated.” He didn’t have time to be clever with a reply before James was kissing him. It was just as intense as their first, but with desire and lust and fire added in. 

“Guess I should have asked permission first.” he murmured, running his lips against the edge of Tony’s beard. He grazed the edge of the tender bruise on his cheekbone and Tony winced. 

“Oh.... I’m so sorry, Tony. I didn’t mean to hurt..” James pulled away, brows knit in concern. 

“I know, James. Trust me, I’ve done much worse to myself over the years - remind me to show you the repulsor test footage someday. In the meanwhile, how about you kiss me again and make it all better?” 

One hand twined into James’ long hair (imagining what it would feel like brushing against his hips) the other already under his shirt, he found himself backed up against the wall, one of James’ legs pushing in between his thighs. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed having a partner who could muscle him around a bit. One of the bonuses of choosing a super soldier for a bedmate. Or being chosen, which was even more amazing. 

“By the way, permission granted, explicit and enthusiastic for anything you have in mind that doesn’t involve farm animals or clowns.” 

He felt more than heard James’ low laugh in response. “Good to know - I’ll try to rise to the occasion.” Rising didn’t seem to be a problem, at least based on what he was feeling hot and hard against his thigh. His own physical response was at least as obvious, as he ground his hips against James. 

“Bedroom... forgot to show you the bedroom.” Tony panted.

“Lead the way, Boss.” And that word, of all things, brought him up short; thoughts of Stockholm Syndrome and imprinting crowding into his mind. He gently pushed James away, just far enough to look him in the eyes. 

“Hold on, sunshine. Before we do this, I want to make sure you know you don’t have to. I’m not expecting any payback for working on your arm. You are a free agent. You don’t owe me anything, don’t owe anyone anything.” No matter how badly he wanted James, he wouldn’t take advantage of him. 

\-----------------------

He knew Tony meant well, but he was tired of this. Especially at the moment; talking (unless it was dirty) was the last thing he wanted. There were much better things they could be doing with their lips and tongues. He turned, and fell against the wall beside Tony, hitting the back of his head against it in frustration. 

“Goddammit, Tony. It’s bad enough that Steve walks on eggshells around me. Don’t you start as well. I know I’m fucked up, in a lot of ways. But I also know... that I want this, whatever this turns out to be. I wasn’t allowed to want or to choose anything for myself for so goddamned long. Let me make it clear. I am choosing to be here, to be with you. To want you.” 

He closed his eyes and continued, “It’s okay if it’s too much, more than you bargained for, Tony. It's taken me by surprise too. But If you’re just doing this because you feel sorry for me - then go to hell.” He unlocked his knees, letting his body slide down the wall. 

Tony joined him, sitting by his side, reaching out to rest a hand on his knee. “This isn’t a pity screw, James, not by a long shot. You are a goddamn miracle - to still be the amazing man you are after the hell they put you through. I haven’t felt like this for a long time; I want it too.” He was quiet for a moment. “How about we accept that we’re both fucked up and go from there?” 

“Depends.... can we be fucked down and sideways as well?” Sometimes bravado was all that kept him going. 

Tony just shook his head, then looked up with his dark, bedroom eyes and a wolfish grin ... “Well now... aren’t you ambitious?” 

But once they actually reached the bedroom, he wasn’t sure he could go through with it. Oh, he remembered the mechanics, the techniques, and he was certainly goddamned horny enough. He wasn’t even worried about more painful memories crashing back in; he would cross that bridge if and when he came to it. It was more that he’d never done this with someone he actually cared about so much. That he was putting his heart at risk. 

Tony was aware of his hesitation, if not the reasons behind it. “I seem to remember mentioning something about having my mouth full - want me to start with that?” Pushing his shirt up out of the way, Tony started kissing his chest, lips trailing downward, hands stroking his sides. “Use your words, sunshine - you owe me some words.” 

“Yes.. please....” He felt Tony’s hands move to his hips, then start unfastening his belt. He struggled to take off his own shirt; the fabric getting caught on the rapidly shifting plates of his arm, blocking his vision so that the first caress took him by surprise, making him flinch. 

“You okay, James?” He sounded concerned, which was both irritating and comforting. 

“Yeah - just didn’t see it coming. More... please.....” and he obliged. James reveled in his touch, callused fingers and palms surprisingly gentle as he stroked and fondled. He gasped when he felt the cool slickness of lube added to the mix. He placed his own hands on Tony’s shoulders, not only to steady, but to ground himself as well. And when he felt Tony’s tongue trace a slow path up his length, his knees damn near buckled. 

“Figured you soldiers were used to standing at attention for hours on end,” Tony chuckled softly. “But as much as I’m enjoying this, my knees aren’t what they once were, either. How’s about we put this bed to good use?” 

\---------------------------------------

Despite James’ admonition, Tony still felt the need to keep checking in with him, make sure he wasn’t pushing him too far too fast. Hence the change of location; the pause in the action giving them both a chance to clear their heads, if necessary. He snagged a couple of towels from the ensuite, returning to find James had turned down the bed and was seductively posed, his own come-hither look firmly in place. It seemed he was on board to continue what they’d started. 

“Figured you woulda stripped down by now, Stark. How’s a guy supposed to get fresh with ya if you’re still dressed?” 

“I’m working on it, Sergeant Sassy-No-Pants.” He was reluctant to remove his shirt, put his scars on display. But James didn’t blink, didn’t look away; in fact seemed to drink the sight of him in... and Tony was ashamed of his own doubt. 

“About time I get to see what those fancy suits have been hiding.. guess the workshop’s gonna be a no shirts zone from now on.” They took time exploring each other’s bodies, indulging in the feel of skin against skin before Tony once again took charge. He opted for a position most suited to soixante-neuf, but as James moved to complete the circle, Tony pulled back slightly, gently taking his hand and placing it on his hip instead. “I may only have one in me tonight, and I’d prefer not to be multitasking. Let me focus on you for now, sunshine.” 

And focus he did. Taking his time, he kept his strokes light and slow to start. James’ moans and gasps were his guide; he didn’t quite want to make him beg, not at the moment. He moved on to gentle licks up and down his shaft, steadying him at the base with one hand. A few slow circles with his tongue, then he placed his lips around the tip. James responded with an instinctive thrust, for which he immediately apologized. 

“Oh, I’ll be going much deeper, loverboy ... just be patient.” He enjoyed giving head almost as much as getting it; trying different techniques to determine the maximum pleasure for his partner. Some liked teeth nipping, others were all about long slow laps of the tongue. Whether pressing him close to the roof of his mouth, hollow-cheeked for maximum friction, or opening wide, only allowing his breath and the barest hint of lips to ghost up and down, James seemed to be enjoying it all immensely. His hand had roamed a bit, stroking Tony’s thigh, cupping his ass, but he was mostly behaving himself and not being too much of a distraction. 

“Where are those words you offered me, sweetheart? No need to keep quiet; no one but me can hear.” That opened the floodgates - apparently no longer capable of smart remarks, or even full sentences, James’ words of praise, of desire, inspired Tony to new heights of creativity. 

Ready to take full advantage of their position giving him the proper angle, he took a few deep breaths, then a partial inhale before taking all of James in, down to the root. His lover went completely still, except for the involuntary twitches Tony felt in his throat; both of them holding their breath until he came up again. 

“Oh Tony... can’t believe.... so deep... so good... gettin’ close....” 

“Are you ready, James? Or do you want me to play some more?” He was perfectly willing to go on for as long as his partner could hold out - had done so before, despite knowing he’d have a sore throat and aching jaw the following day. 

“Please, Tony... can’t hold back no more....” 

“Then don’t, darling. Give it to me.” And he slid down, meeting James’ desperate thrusts, hearing his strangled shout. Riding out the aftershocks, Tony finally came back up for air. James was trembling, so he quickly shifted position to take him in his arms, spreading out a towel over his shivering body. 

“You okay? A little too much? It’s all right - I’ve got you...” 

\---------------------------------------------

It wasn’t a panic attack - it was the opposite. A feeling of bliss, of utter elation had momentarily overwhelmed him. His body had not betrayed him; he had chosen to be this vulnerable. And it had been so much better, so much more than he had remembered. To be naked, body and soul, giving and taking pleasure with a lover. He opened his eyes to see Tony looking down at him, a fond smile crinkling his face. “Hey, handsome.” 

“Hey yourself. That was amazing, Tony.” 

“Good. Now, how about you get some shut-eye, babe? It’s been a long day.” 

“Nuh-uh - got some unfinished business, Boss.” He put a finger over Tony’s lips. “No. Don’t even start with me on that.” Levering up and twisting, he flipped Tony on his back and straddled him. He bent down to whisper roughly in his ear, “Besides, you like that idea, don’t you? Having a big, strong boy toy who wants to make you happy?” A muffled whine and twitch were all the reply he needed, filing it away for future reference. 

He felt the memories from the other morning trying to worm their way in, but he denied them, grounded in the here and now. His choice, his want, his desire was to please Tony, to make him writhe and moan - exploring all the sensitive spots across his body with lips, tongue and teeth, starting at the top and working his way down. He was unused to the luxury of time; previous encounters had tended toward the quick and dirty - the objective being to get off and move on. He wanted this to last, to give as much pleasure as he had received. 

“Hey now, sunshine, you’re gonna leave a hickey.” Tony squirmed as he found a sensitive spot at the base of his neck, nibbling and sucking. 

“That’s kinda the point - want everyone to know you’re mine, Boss.” He couldn’t resist the temptation to leave a few marks across his lover’s neck and shoulders. However, he was mindful of his touch once he reached Tony’s chest - he knew how tender scar tissue could be. As he cautiously explored, he wondered what had happened, how Tony had managed to survive whatever event caused this damage. 

But he’d seen Tony’s fierce drive to overcome, to succeed; forcing the universe to bend to his will. Were those traits a result of that catastrophe, or what allowed him to endure it in the first place? Regardless, it only made him love the man even more passionately. 

As he neared his target, Tony spoke. “JARVIS - more light - I want to watch this.” 

“I thought you said no one was listening in!” He was mostly joking; he wasn’t surprised that the robot butler could be contacted from anywhere in the Tower. 

“He only tunes in if he hears his name. And if you start calling out his name instead of mine while we’re in the middle of sex, that’s gonna be a problem, my dear.” 

“Got all I can handle right now with you, Boss.” And that was no exaggeration - Tony was proving to be a thrilling handful, firm and throbbing. He tried a few of the moves he’d just enjoyed; a deft twist of the wrist, a rolling of the fingers. He was thankful for the slick Tony had provided - miles better than the Vaseline he remembered using. Alternating a tight grip with a loose caress; he used his other hand as a brace against the bed, until Tony placed it on his hip, not flinching from the touch of the cool metal; instead arching up into it. 

Making eye contact, he bent his head down, lips parted to engulf Tony’s shaft. He focused on the sensation of hot skin sliding between his lips - running his tongue over the velvety smooth surface. He rode him all the way down, held deep for a moment, then came back up slowly, their gaze still locked. 

“Oh god ... again, please.. baby... so good.” Tony’s eyes started to glaze over as he continued the suckjob, varying the depth with each descent. He could hear his lover’s heartbeat accelerate, feel his muscles start to contract. He reached for one of Tony’s hands, and placed it on the back of his head, hoping he would understand the significance, the level of trust that indicated. 

Tony’s fingers twitched momentarily, then relaxed, gently combing through his hair. But there was no pressure, no force, no demands, even as his hips bucked, and a high keen escaped his lips. Making him shiver with one last teasing lick, James lay his head on Tony’s thigh for a moment, then slid up behind his back to hold him close. He nuzzled Tony’s neck, embracing him gently as he caught his breath. 

“Any chance we could convince Dum-E to deliver breakfast in bed?” 

“That would be such a disaster, sunshine, you do not even know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was difficult to write, and even more difficult to post. But I keep my word - I promised "Eventual Smut" .... and I hope this delivered. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello over on [tumblr](http://politz-writes.tumblr.com/)


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